


Heavy is the Head (that wears the crown)

by k_lynn



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: All the things that go along with being in a gang, Clave essentially equals mafia, Crime Families, Drugs, F/M, Gang AU, Gangs, M/M, Malec, Multi, Organized Crime, Prostitution, Violence, but Malec is the main, downworlders are more traditional gangs, mundane AU, other pairings will get their time
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-25
Updated: 2017-09-24
Packaged: 2019-01-05 03:26:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12181983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/k_lynn/pseuds/k_lynn
Summary: New York's underworld has been split in an uneasy truce between two rival gangs. One side is held by the Lightwood family, for a vast network of crime families known as the Clave. The other is held by Magnus Bane, a man with vision and dubious morals who united three gangs to form the Downworld.  When rivals threaten the tenuous peace, they can either work together or watch it all burn around them.Aka the gang au that stuck in my head and wouldn't leave.





	Heavy is the Head (that wears the crown)

**Author's Note:**

> This is a gang au, so when I say it gets dark, I mean it. I'll add warnings as I go if things come up. For this first chapter, just some good old fashioned violence. Just as a warning.
> 
> I like to listen to music as I write, so if you're into that, here's the playlist for this chapter:  
> Mobscene- Marilyn Manson  
> Bad Company - Five Finger Death Punch (cover)  
> Glory and Gore - Lorde  
> Dark Side - Bishop Briggs  
> Big Guns - Ruelle  
> Violence Fetish – Disturbed

* * *

 

Pandemonium is a sea of skin and sweat and pulsing lights. It’s a front, and base, and a home to the people here. Rent boys and call girls work the crowd, dealers prowl the edges, lingering the dark spaces between the shifting lights. And people dance and drink and laugh, unaware of what lives in their midst. Hiding in plain sight. They are good at that. It’s how they survive. The music pulses around it all, in their ears, in their veins.

They are the Downworld, the beginning and end of the gang world on this side of town. Three smaller gangs brought together by desperation and kept together by a man with vision. They went from barely eeking out a space for themselves in New York’s underworld to ruling a portion of it.

Presiding over it all, is Magnus Bane, dominating a corner of the large, flat space, a ringed gap between him and his patrons, raised slightly above them. He watches everything, he sees everything, and nothing happens in this club, in his gang, without him knowing about it. He offered them protection, and that is what he gives. They give him loyalty. They are more than desperate people brought together by survival. They are a family.

It’s business as usual for most of the night until it isn’t. The interlopers aren’t hard to spot. All black clothes and their distinctive tattoos. Magnus sit up abruptly and Raphael hisses beside him. “Clave.”

“Let’s go greet our guests, shall we?” Magnus says, and nods to Raphael and then Maia. They break apart, disappearing into the crowd to flank the two men. Magnus tracks them for a moment, catching Maia lithely working her way through the crowd, while Raphael makes use of the shadowed outer edges like he made from them.

Magnus leaves his shadowed platform and heads straight toward them. The crowd parts for him with little effort. The two men notice him immediately and a second later they realize they’ve been flanked. To their credit, they only look a little worried.

“You have wandered far off your territory, shadowhunters,” Magnus says, his voice carrying over the music. They backed them to the far end of the club’s bar, protected a little from the crowd and risking anyone seeing something they shouldn’t.

Shadowhunters is a moniker that started out as a joke, a nod to the Clave’s penchant for taking out their enemies with assassinations from the shadows. They’ve adopted it informally, but they are still Clave. The Clave is more an Organization than a small time gang, and more a crime dynasty than that. They have families all over the world, fingers in too many pies to count. Here, it means these goons belong to the Lightwoods. Magnus smiles to himself. He’d been hoping to see them. If they’re here, it means his little invitation has been received.

“The Lightwoods want a meet,” one of the men says, and he puffs up his chest a little. He’s fairly confident Magnus won’t kill them. It remains to be seen if that’s true. The man with him watches Raphael and Maia, his hand inching, but never slipping into his coat. “Neutral ground. The Hunter’s Moon. Tomorrow at midnight.”

Magnus smirks, tipping his head, studying them for a long moment before he answers, just to watch them sweat a little. He can see Maia’s amusement and Raphael’s subtle exasperation. “We’ll be there. I’d suggest, gentlemen, you remove yourselves from my club, or my people might offer their assistance.”

He waves a hand, and Maia and Raphael close in. The two shadowhunters look at them with undisguised distain, but they leave as suddenly as they appeared.

Magnus is almost back to his seat when Maia and Raphael catch up to him.

“Well, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but it actually worked,” Maia says, a sharp smile on her feral and beautiful face.

“If they don’t decide to take us all out,” Raphael mutters, sounding put out. “It’s a risk.”

“Nonsense,” Magnus says, making a swift dismissive gesture. “The Lightwoods are all about honor. They asked for a meet in neutral ground. They won’t try anything.”

“You willing to bet your life on that, Magnus?” Raphael asks, one brow arched, his face otherwise unreadable.

Magnus grins, “Always. It’s the only thing I bet with.”

* * *

 

The Institute is an exclusive, member’s only club. It boasts a bar and restaurant, and a nightclub. Escorts in designer clothes and jewels rub elbows with high powered businessman and foreign dignitaries, A-list celebrities and politicians sample designer drugs in intimate back rooms as often as the custom blended cigars in the tastefully appointed cigar bar. The latest reality TV stars and pop idols lounge at reserved tables with their entourages skirting a marble dancefloor. It is the seat of power for the Clave in New York, and it has been controlled by the Lightwood family for as long as anyone cares to remember.

On one of the upper floors, above the bars and the private rooms, in an office furnished in dark woods and a stately fireplace, Maryse Lightwood regards her children with quiet fury. The eldest, and heir to the Lightwood dynasty, Alec stands stiffly, his hands clasped behind his back, his spine straight and unyielding. Her daughter, Isabelle, sits on a couch, with deceptive ease, her attention more on her brother than her furious mother. Maryse’s adopted son Jace lounges next to Isabelle, looking for all the world like the tense silence doesn’t bother him in the slightest.

Maryse tosses a baggy onto a table between them. On it is stamped a DW is scrolling script. “What is this _filth_ doing on our streets?” she snarls.

For a moment, none of them move, and then Jace leans forward, picking up the small bag and looking it over before he hands it to Alec. “The Downworlders are getting bolder.”

“Magnus Bane,” Maryse’s voice is steeped in distain, “Has pushed his luck too far this time. We cannot allow these thugs with delusions of grandeur to establish a foothold in our territory.”

“We’ll increase the presence on the street,” Alec says lowly, “Have our contacts in the police department up the watch for any dealer that doesn’t belong to us.”

“Yes we will,” Maryse says, her flinty gaze moving over her son. “But defensive action is never enough, Alec. I taught you better than that. If you are going to take over this family one day, you need to show more initiative.”

Alec’s shoulders tense, but he says nothing. Isabelle looks between them, her eyes hard and narrow.

“You will meet with Magnus Bane,” Maryse continues in a clipped tone, ignoring the way they all stare at her, “And impress upon him that the scrap of territory he’s managed to hold is only his because we allow it. He and his gutter trash will stay on their side of the line, or they will learn why the Lightwood name holds fear in this city.”

“And if he refuses to heel?” Alec asks in an even voice.

Maryse smiles, and it is not a nice smile. “Then you make him. I don’t care how you do it, Alec, but we will not lose an inch of the Clave’s territory to likes of the Downworld. Ruthlessness is the only thing these people understand. Bane has agreed to a meeting at the Hunter’s Moon at midnight.”

Alec gives her a sharp nod and he moves to leave. Jace stands leisurely and falls in step beside him. Isabelle moves between them.

“Oh, and Alec,” Maryse says, making them all pause. “Make me proud.”

Alec nods again, “I won’t disappoint you, mother.”

Isabelle slips her hand around Alec’s arm and pulls him from the room, followed closely by Jace. None of them says anything until they are well away from Maryse’s office. Isabelle groans quietly. “She was in rare form tonight. Mother of the year.”

“Izzy,” Alec says lowly, shaking his head. “She’s right. We can’t let this get out of hand. The last thing we need is a war in the streets.”

“A war is exactly what she’s talking about,” Isabelle says. “Make him, she says. We all know Magnus Bane’s reputation. He knows exactly what he’s doing.”

“Then we contain it,” Alec snaps, dragging his arm out of her hold. He pushes ahead of them down the stairs, where the pulsing beat of the club below gets louder with every step. “Bane is a pimp and a small time thug. If he doesn’t understand threats, he’ll understand money. He’s just trying to make waves.”

“Stupid to get into a pissing contest with the Clave,” Jace comments. “Is he working an angle?”

Alec sighs, rolling his eyes, “So what if he is. He has to know he won’t win. This is just a waste of our time.”

And that annoys him more than anything else. Isabelle is right. His mother is flouting war with the Downworld. He can’t figure out why. Their best bet would be to maintain their territory by cracking down on any outside interloper. He knows he’s right, but he also knows his mother won’t listen to him. Despite her orders, he isn’t going to attack Magnus Bane on neutral ground. It’s a low he is never going to sink to. She told him to handle it, he’s going to do it his way.

“Gear up,” Jace says with a grin, loping ahead of them as they bypass the club floor and head below.

Beneath the club is just a fraction of the inner workings of their empire. Anything they have here is for practical purposes. They arm themselves, because none of them are walking into a meet with the Downworld without weapons. Neutral ground doesn’t mean they’re safe.

Alec straps on his twin holsters, checking the clips out of habit. No one touches these guns but him, but he is never not careful. He slides a blade into his boot and another into a guard on his wrist. He looks longingly at his rifle, and thinks unkindly how much easier his life would be if he just took Bane out. But this was a meet, not an assassination, so he leaves it. After a moment’s thought, he straps a sheath at his lower back, sliding his black handled Bowie knife into place.

Jace hides at least five blades in various places on his person, slides his Colt into the holster at his back and slings the strap of a sawed off double barrel over his shoulder. It’s not visible under his coat, and Jace is as proficient with it as he is with any handgun. Convincing him to leave it behind would be a futile effort. He never goes anywhere without that gun.

Isabelle slides a small snub nosed revolver into a holster on her thigh under her skirt and a small blade goes into a sheath between her breasts. A garrote can be slid from the bracelet she always wears and she is deadly with it. Her attire doesn’t lend to easily hidden weapons, but she does slide on a well fitted jacket that reasonably hides shoulder holster.

There is a sleek black car waiting for them when they exit the Institute. They’ll be early. Alec doesn’t want to give Bane any time to establish ground. He has no intention of giving him the upper hand, no matter what they are walking into.

The street in front of the Hunter’s Moon is deserted and no one goes in or out. The place is closed down for this meeting, the neon open sign a dull black square in the window. There is another sign that says the bar is closed for a private party.

“Let’s hope this doesn’t turn into a party,” Jace mutters, exiting the car first.

Alec scoffs, unfolding from the car and shaking his head. “I wish you actually meant that.”

Isabelle exits last, a little laugh escaping her. “Oh, come on, big brother. At least this is interesting.”

“I don’t find anything interesting about this, Iz,” Alec grumbles. “This is—”

“A waste of time, we know,” Jace finishes, shaking his head and shooting Alec a grin. “Relax, Alec. It’s not like we can’t handle anything they try to throw at us.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about and you know it,” Alec mutters, scanning the streets. He freezes when he sees three people moving through the shadows toward them.

“I’m interested to meet Magnus Bane,” Isabelle is saying. Neither she nor Jace have notice they aren’t alone yet, “I hear he’s impressive.”

“Shut up, Iz,” Alec says lowly, moving ahead of them toward the bar, to meet the group fast approaching them.

 

* * *

 

Magnus watches the black sedan idle on the curb. Subtle, these shadowhunters. He wonders who Maryse Lightwood has sent to meet with him. He wonders how furious she is at having to do it and the thought makes him smile. He knows the vicious matriarch of the Lightwoods would love nothing more than to gut him in the street. Any inconvenience he can cause her is a bonus.

When the door opens, his interest sharpens. A blond exists first. He is obviously armed, going by the bulge of what is either a holster or a small shotgun under his arm, and unmistakably a fighter. He scans the area, though he doesn’t see them in the shadows, and steps aside for the man who unfolds himself from the car next. He is tall, also armed, though not as obviously, and dark haired, his face in shadows. He scans the area as well, his whole posture one of constant readiness. A woman exits after him, and though she doesn’t look like she could hide much under her tight dress and fitted jacket, Magnus isn’t about to underestimate her.

The street light catches the face of the tall, dark haired shadowhunter, and Magnus’ brows go up. He is lovely. Deep, dark eyes, full lips, elegant cheekbones, a jaw that could cut. His skin is pale, and his distinctive Clave tattoos are stark against it. Well, then. If Maryse is trying to distract him by sending her prettiest enforcer, he applauds her efforts.

Magnus makes a small motion with his right hand and starts toward the bar. Maia walks in step beside him, and Raphael walks a little behind, watching Magnus’ back. He still thinks this is going to end badly. The tall, pretty one notices them first and heads toward the entrance to the bar as well. They meet at the door at the same moment.

Magnus smirks at the tense Clave enforcers and waves a hand, his gaze fixed with the tall one. Up close he is even prettier, and there is something familiar about his face, though Magnus can’t place him.

“After you, darling,” Magnus says, amusement evident in his voice.

The shadowhunter’s once direct gaze skates away from him and the man scowls, his eyes narrowing. He puts his back to Magnus as he enters, as if in defiance, and the message is clear. This shadowhunter doesn’t view Magnus or either of his companions as a threat. Magnus likes him even more.

The blond watches the Downworlders as he lets the woman, who smirks at Magnus as she passes, enter first turning to watch them as they follow. The blond and the woman flank the tall one, and it is obvious who is running this.

Magnus faces off with him, Maia sets up opposite the blond, and Raphael watches the woman with bland disinterest. “Drink?” Magnus asks, waving toward the bar.

“This isn’t a social call,” the tall one says, folding his arms, “You wanted us here. Here we are.”

“What makes you think we wanted you here?” Magnus asks, cocking his head. “You invited us.”

That earns him something that is almost an eye roll, though this one seems a little too dignified for that. “So you didn’t place your product in our territory? Or were you expecting we’d ignore it?”

Magnus likes this one very much. “You caught me,” he says, unashamed. “I did pull a few strings to see if you’d bite. And the Clave did not disappoint.” Magnus takes a step forward, all his attention for the man before him, “I find that negotiations work better when there is at least introductions. You are?”

The other man lifts one brow, “What makes you think we’re here to negotiate anything?”

“Forgive my brother,” the woman says smoothly, laying her hand on the tall one’s tense arm. “He has no social skills. I’m Isabelle, this is Alec and that’s Jace.”

Magnus feels a shock run through him, but he recovers, motioning first to Maia and then Raphael. “These are my lieutenants, Maia and Raphael. I trust I need no introduction.”

“We know who you are, Magnus Bane,” Alec Lightwood says blandly.

“And I know you,” Magnus says. “The heir apparent. Should I be honored the Lightwoods came themselves to meet with me?”

“Oh, are we in the presence of Clave royalty,” Maia says with false brightness, “Is there a ring somewhere I need to kiss? I feel like I should curtsey.”

“If you feel the need,” Jace says with a smirk.

Maia makes a rude gesture at him, and Jace blows her a kiss.

“We’re not here for pleasantries,” Alec says, ignoring them all. “Keep your product on your side of the line, and we’ll do the same. This is a warning. If we find Downworlders in our territory, we’ll treat it as a declaration of war.”

Magnus raises his brows. “So quick to use the “W” word. Don’t you want to hear what I have to say? I did after all go to the trouble of getting you here. You know I can’t control where my product goes once it leaves the hands of my distributers.”

“None of our clients want the shit you’re pushing, Bane,” Alec says evenly, and even the profanity sounds good falling from his lips. “Stick to back alleys like you’re good at.”

Magnus smirks at that. Apparently Alec likes to go below the belt. Well, well, Magnus has no problem with that. Their formation breaks up a little, Magnus moving a little closer to Alec while Maia slips to the side, Jace twisting to track her, and Raphael sidles closer to the bar, while Isabelle turns with him, making a motion for him to come at her any time he chooses.

“Let’s not beat around the bush then, darling,” Magnus says, smirking when Alec tenses at his nearness. They are still a little more than an arms length from each other. “We know the Circle has been pushing at your borders and the Clave has seen fit to ignore it. We could help each other, Alec. A deal of sorts.”

“We don’t make deals with thugs,” Alec replies, though he is tense. Apparently he’d thought they’d kept that well under wraps. And they had, for anyone who wasn’t Magnus. The Clave has always underestimated him.

“You say the sweetest things,” Magnus hums, taking another step, testing him.

There is a blade pressed to his throat and he is unashamed to admit he didn’t see Alec palm it or even see him move before he feels the threat of its edge against his skin.

“That’s close enough,” Alec says, his tone still not fluctuating much from the bored one he’d adopted since they started. There is a glint in his eyes though, like he’d relish a fight with Magnus if he gave him a reason.

Magnus opens his hands and takes a step back. “You are more than a pretty face, aren’t you?”

Alec lowers the blade and slides it back into the band around his wrist. “What do you want, Bane? Really?”

“A mutually beneficial arrangement,” Magnus says. “You and I both know that you don’t have the numbers to keep up your presence in the streets with the Circle. How many have you lost already?”

Alec’s jaw tenses, and he tips his head. “Strength in numbers, then is it?”

Magnus hums his assent. “I still control the Warlocks. Raphael still leads the Night Children.” Magnus hesitates for a beat in dealing one of his aces, but he knows he needs to tip Alec to their side. Luke will forgive him. “And I have the leader of the Pack on my side.”

Alec goes ridged, and Jace blinks, his gaze moving over Maia with interest. “You’re a Direwolf?”

“I’m a Downworlder,” Maia raises her chin and smirks, “But yes, I am.”

Isabelle, who is still watching Raphael, looks amused. “Night Children, huh? I thought you looked familiar.”

Raphael doesn’t respond, but he inclines his head to her.

“We have the numbers,” Magnus says. “More than the Institute could ever hope for. You know that, Alec.”

“And what do we have?”

This one asks the right questions and doesn’t pull his punches and sees more than anyone would think. Magnus idly wonders if Maryse is aware of the asset she sent. Probably, considering he is here. And Magnus is very pleased he is here.

“Influence,” Magnus replies, “Lots of fingers in a lot of pies. And resources we don’t have.”

Alec inclines his head like that is what he assumed he’d say. He’s considering it, Magnus can see that. He waits him out. After a pregnant moment, Alec lifts his gaze to Magnus’ and holds it.

“I’ll take your offer to the Institute,” he says finally. “That’s all I’ll promise. And under the condition you keep to your territory until we make a decision.”

Magnus inclines his head to him. “You have my word.”

“Then we’re done here,” Alec says, motioning first to Jace and then to Isabelle.

Magnus makes a subtle motion and Raphael and Maia make no moves to obstruct them. Once again, Alec turns his back on Magnus. Jace is there though, and so is Isabelle, so it doesn’t seem he really needs to worry. He doesn’t need to worry anyway. Magnus has no intention of harming Alec Lightwood, and he’ll make sure his people don’t either.

“Oh Alec,” Magnus says, waiting until he turns to face him again. “I have a condition as well.”

Alec huffs something that is almost amused. “You come to us and you have a condition?”

Magnus shrugs, unrepentant, “If we enter into this… arrangement, I’ll only deal with you.”

Alec stares at him for a long moment, and his tongue flicks out unconsciously to wet his lips. Magnus doesn’t even pretend he didn’t follow that movement. After another second, Alec nods his silent acceptance, and the shadowhunters leave them alone in the quiet bar.

Maia saunters over to Magnus’ side and leans her arm on his shoulder. “Luke is gonna be pissed you brought him in without talking to him about it, especially with Clave being involved.”

Magnus rubs a hand over his mouth, “He'll forgive me. He wants the Circle gone just as much as the Lightwoods. I needed to give them something to make my offer look worthwhile. Unfortunately in this case, Luke was it.”

“And you suddenly having an interest in working with the Clave had nothing to do with the fact that you didn't take your eyes off Alec Lightwood for longer than a second since he stepped out of that car?” Raphael’s voice is bland, though Magnus can see his exasperation.

Raphael doesn't hold much regard for Clave, none of them do. They are content to sit in their ivory towers, content to let the lesser men fight amongst themselves. Then they come in like they own the world and expect everyone else to fall in line. Magnus doesn't know why, but Alec Lightwood seemed different.

Sure, he spouted the same vitriol at them most Clave did, they are scum, small time crooks, thugs, but to someone like Alec, with the vast empire of wealth and corruption he is set to inherit, from a mother whose ruthlessness is only outdone by her greed, they probably did look very small.

For some reason, Magnus doesn't feel the immediate distaste for Alec. He believes that when he said he was going to do something, he would, to the best of his ability. For some insane reason, Magnus believes that if they enter into an agreement, Alec would honor it. Even more insane, a small part of him trusts him, and isn't that a surprise.

“Who knows, maybe you can knock that stick out of his ass,” Maia snickers.

Magnus laughs, “Now, Maia, my dear. This is business.”

“Like you haven't fucked for business before, Bane,” Maia rolls her eyes, swinging the keys to the bar around her fingers.

If the Clave only knew that this neutral ground is under his control. They had played right into his hands. And as an added bonus, they had delivered him Alec Lightwood. That was an avenue he might have to explore.

They loiter for a moment longer, giving the Lightwoods time to leave. Then they hear a shout from outside, a slam and glass shattering. Magnus moves before Raphael can reach the door. He steps out into a brawl.

 

* * *

 

Their driver was dead when they got to the car.

Alec is dimly grateful they had geared up for a fight. He'd been expecting a fight with the Downworlders, not a group of Circle, but preparation counted for something. As it is, he does not have time for this bullshit.

“Keep it down,” he says lowly. “We’re not in our territory and we don’t want the cops here.”

“Tell them that,” Jace replies, but he flashes a smirk at Alec. He faces the group of men that have them far too outnumbered for Alec’s liking. “I thought it smelled like shit around here.”

“Fucking Lightwoods,” what appears to be the leader spits. His Circle brand is red and fresh and he doesn’t have any Clave tattoos.

Alec feels something like relief at that. They’re all traitors, but at least he doesn’t run the risk of killing someone he knows. “What’s the goal here?” he asks watching for any sign of aggression. So far they’ve just stood off like this.

“Yeah,” Jace chimes in, his lip curling. “Did you come all the way here for a chat?”

“I came here to put a bullet in your fucking skulls and then fuck the brain hole,” the mouthy one snarls, though all he does is point a wicked looking spiked bar at them. “And then I’ll fuck your sister.”

“He’s all charm isn’t he?” Jace says, not rising in the least to the petty taunts. “What do you think, Iz?”

“I’d threaten to cut his dick off and make him eat it,” Isabelle says sweetly. “But I don’t think it’d be enough to even choke him.”

Alec keeps a straight face, but it’s difficult. “No guns.”

Jace laughs and doesn’t even try to hide it.  “Yeah, yeah. Up the difficulty, why don’t you, Alec.”

“Seriously?” Alec mutters, rolling his eyes. If they could all take this seriously that would be amazing, but Alec knows he lost that battle a long time ago.

The ring leader comes at Alec and he dodges the bar, grabbing his arm and swinging him into the car behind him. The window shatters. Alec palms the blade at his wrist and slams it into his throat. That was for disrespecting his sister. He leaves him to choke on his own blood and moves on to the rest.

Jace has taken a crow bar from another one of them and he’s making a good dent with it, Isabelle has her garrote wrapped around the neck of one while she slides a knife into the spine of another, but there’s easily ten of them. Alec doesn’t have time to watch out for Jace or Isabelle, doesn’t have time to do anything but dodge weapons and fists, and fight.

“Alec, watch your six!” Jace calls out.

Alec tries to turn, hand going to the Bowie knife at his back, but before he can react, someone has pushed between him and the guy about to take him out with a bat to the face.

Magnus Bane slides a wicked looking knife into the Circle member’s chest, grinning as he does so. “It’d be a shame to ruin such a pretty face, don’t you think, dear?”

That is how Alec finds himself back to back with Magnus, fighting together. He never thought this would become his life.

Magnus fights with flourish, his movements viper-quick and dancer-graceful. Alec is ashamed to admit he spends a little too much time watching him. So he sees when a Circle member comes at Magnus with a blade aimed at his kidney. Alec moves without thinking, sinking his knife into the man’s stomach and taking him to the ground.

“You Lightwoods act all high and mighty, but you can scrap with the best, can’t you?” Magnus says, amused.

“Is now really the time?” Alec snaps, exasperated.

The fight tips in their favor with the Downworlders help. Raphael takes down two at once with twin blades not unlike Magnus’ and without getting a drop of blood on his fancy suit. Maia’s fists are ringed in brass knuckles and covered in blood, a feral, exhilarated smile on her face. Isabelle brings down a man with her weight and garrote and then steps back as Jace takes a running swing at his head with the spiked bar that they’d been threatened with. It connects with a meaty thunk.

In the distance, sirens wail.

They all look up.

“Shit,” Jace snaps. “They’re coming this way.”

Alec rises, about to start shouting orders, but Magnus cuts him off.

“Go,” he says. “We’ll handle this.”

They stare at each other for a long moment, Alec looking for what Magnus’ motivation could possibly be, and Magnus smirking back.

“Not really the time for this either,” Magnus says. “Trust me, darling. This one is free.”

Alec tenses his jaw, but he nods. “Jace, Izzy. Let’s go.”

Jace shoves their dead driver out of the way into the passenger seat, they are not leaving one of their own here, and hops into the driver’s seat. Isabelle dives into the back, and Alec is quick to follow her. He looks back once more at Magnus once the door is closed, and Magnus waggles his fingers at him, a small dark smile curving his lips. Jace wrenches the car away from the curb, and they are gone.

**Author's Note:**

> So, note about the Direwolves. I didn't want to stick with "the Werewolves" because it didn't sound badass enough to encompass the sheer badassery that is the werewolves, so... That's really the only change I made. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it. I'll try to update weekly, since I have most of this planned. Feel free to comment something you'd like to see tho. I'm always open for ideas.


End file.
